


a fickle game we play

by ohfreckle



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, things are complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:45:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfreckle/pseuds/ohfreckle
Summary: Alex keeps coming back, but nothing ever seems to change.





	a fickle game we play

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing to see here, just gratuitous porn, because that's how I roll. 
> 
> if you want to tweet about this fic, tag me [@ohfreckle](https://twitter.com/ohfreckle) or say Hi on [tumblr](http://ohfreckle.tumblr.com/)

Fucking Manes, fuck all of them.

Michael slams the door of the small cabinet that serves as his bar shut. Nothing to see here but empty bottles. For all about ten seconds, he entertains the thought of driving into town and buying his weight in whiskey and nail polish remover, maybe pick up a girl on the way. Everything to forget Alex fucking Manes and the way Michael’s heart cracks a little more every time he walks away. 

It’s just as well that he’s short on cash. Michael hasn’t thought once about tits since he sank his hands into short, brown strands of hair for the first time in a decade—what, less than two weeks ago. Why bother if he’ll come back empty-handed anyway. 

Ten fucking years and Michael is back at the beginning as if his life in-between never happened. And what does he even have to show for it? A criminal record a mile long and a trailer that’s older than him. A bed in which he never lacks company, and yet when Michael looks at the rumpled sheets, all he sees is Alex’s face. 

The old, decrepit door of the fridge gives like butter under the impact of his fist, shaping into four even knuckle-shaped dents with a thump.

God fucking damn. Sharing a beer in the back of his truck, their hands touching in the narrow space between; their eyes meeting across the room in the Wild Pony; fucking Alex into the narrow mattress of his bed: it doesn’t matter how close they are, they’re still worlds apart. 

It _hurts_.

Michael still wants it. 

He knows it’s Alex outside the door before the knock comes. He’s memorized the slightly uneven rhythm of Alex’s gait, recognizes the dull sound of his cane against the floor as he shifts his weight before he knocks. 

It hurts, and yet Michael opens the door. 

“Are you here to complain about your asshole father or do you just need a good fuck?” Michael is deliberately crass because that’s what he does best, the words as much a weapon as an armor, and they hit dead center. Alex flinches like he’s been physically hit, before his face shutters again. 

“What, I can’t have both?” Alex steps close enough that Michael can smell the beer on his breath. He’s not drunk, but it seems that Michael isn’t the only one who battles his demons with booze. 

“So, what did he say this time?” Michael doesn’t have to read minds to know what their little father/son chit chat at the fundraiser was about. It stung when Alex didn’t come back, and when he did, it was like a knife to the gut. 

Michael doesn’t budge, leaning against the door frame with his arm above his head. 

“I didn’t say I wanted to do things in that order.” Alex pushes against his chest, his face drawn and tight. Fuck, he’s strong; broader around the chest than the boy Michael remembers, rougher around the edges. 

For a moment Michael resists and thinks about not letting him in. Wants to tell Alex what a coward he is for always running and not standing up to his asshole father, but even for him, the level of hypocrisy would be staggering. 

“What? I’m sorry for what I said—”

“No, you’re not.” Closing his eyes, Michael sucks in a harsh breath and steps aside to let Alex in. He’ll always let him in, no use making this more painful than it already is. 

They don’t kiss; they crash together with the force of two planets, the heat between them burning everything its wake until there’s nothing left but dust and ashes. None of their problems will be solved tonight, but Michael doesn’t care. Not when Alex opens up for him, hot and eager, his blunt nails leaving marks down Michael's back that he’ll feel for days. 

Two steps in and Alex’s back hits the opposite wall, his breath sharp against Michael’s lips. Michael drinks it in, licks into Alex, hot and wet, crowding against him until they’re flush from head to toe. He’s more than half-hard already, blood rushing in his ears, his cock thickening against Alex’s thigh as he bites his lips and slicks their tongues together. 

In his tiny kitchen cabinet, the plates rattle as they move, barely masked by the sound of Alex’s cane hitting the floor. 

“Yeah, come on,” Alex groans into the messy kiss. His hands seem to be everywhere; cupping Michael’s face, tugging on his hair, pulling him even closer with both hands on his ass. “Want it. Want _you_!”

Whatever tenuous control Michael has left slips, his desire roaring to life like fire up his spine. Whatever they are, whatever this thing between them is, right now he believes that Alex wants him, can feel it in the hard, wanting line of his body against his own. 

“What do you want?” Michael groans. The slow, sensual roll of Alex’s hips against his pulsing cock is more than proof of what he wants—what he _craves_ —but for once Michael needs to hear him admit it out loud. Catching Alex’s chin in his hand, he refuses to let him turn his face away. “If you want it, say it.” 

For several heartbeats, Michael thinks he’s pushed too hard. Alex goes entirely still in his arms. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it could be altogether innocent if it weren’t for his eyes slipping half shut and his hand trailing over Michael’s hip to cup him between the legs. 

Shuddering, Michael can’t help but lift his hips into the teasing pressure on his cock, want thrumming in his gut when Alex squeezes. Fuck. Out of his uniform, with his soft skin and pretty eyes, it’s all too easy to forget that Alex is a soldier, but nobody survives a fucking war if they can’t play dirty with the best of them. 

“This.” Alex’s voice is a hoarse murmur as he rubs the heel of his hand over the head of Michael’s cock, slow and easy, sending a heated jolt of pleasure down his spine. “I want that thick cock in me.” Strong fingers are squeezing around Michael’s balls, shocking a gasp out him. “Fuck me so hard I don’t remember anything but your cock inside of me.”

“I can do that,” Michael forces past the tightness in his throat. His hand is shaking where he starts to unbutton Alex’s shirt, and it’s not entirely with arousal. Damn Alex for making him _feel_. 

Alex’ stomach muscles are quivering under Michael’s fingertips, his breathing labored when Michael bends and laves over a nipple, a surprised _Oh_ spilling out of him. He likes it, pushing against Michael’s mouth, and Michael is only willing to indulge him. He loves the feeling of a stiff nipple under his tongue; man, woman, doesn’t matter. What matters is their breathless tremble when he pinches the puckered flesh between his teeth, the harsh intake of breath when he sucks just a little too hard. 

“God, yes,” Alex rasps, his shoulders drawing back as he arches, pushing his chest out. His breath is harsh, and Michael doesn’t have to look up to know how he looks. His cock jerks in his pants, already wet at the slit, fat drops of pre-come seeping into the worn denim as he remembers slick, pink lips stretched wide around his cock. 

In his haste to unzip Alex’s jeans with his eyes closed, Michael gets almost carried away. One of Alex’s hands tugs harshly on his hair when his stance becomes unsteady for a second. Michael drags his tongue over a nipple before he straightens, heat prickling at the small of his back when Alex chokes out a moan, and then they’re kissing again, a messy clash of lips, tongues, and muttered apologies. The heat between them keeps building, ratcheting higher with every scrape of teeth, and when Michael slips a hand into the back of Alex’s jeans and down between his cheeks, finding his hole already slick and loose, it crashes in a tidal wave around them. 

“Let me get—” _Lube_. Mind reeling, Michael has to force himself to break the kiss and step back, wracking his brain where he put it after Alex’s last visit. He finds it next to the box of condoms on the shelf that doubles as a headboard for his bed. It shouldn’t be so hard to open the cap but Christ, he’s ten seconds from coming all over himself imagining Alex at home, legs spread wide, fucking down on his fingers and opening himself up for Michael’s cock. 

“What—”

“Like this.” Alex isn’t on the bed, wiggling, as usual, to get comfortable. He’s bracing himself against the fridge, his palm covering the dents Michael’s fist left earlier as if he fucking knows. “Want you as deep as you can go.” 

Fuck fuck, fuck. Alex may look like an angel, all big eyes and soft smiles, but he’s a demon hooking its claws right into Michael’s gut. Like this he looks obscene, jeans pushed just low enough under his ass, his cock hanging out, hard and leaking. He’s so beautiful Michael can barely breathe around how much he _wants_. 

“I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll never forget me,” Michael grits out. He has to close his eyes while he opens his jeans and releases his cock, keeping his touch light and quick as he rolls on a condom and slicks himself up, or he’ll eat his words before they even get started. 

“Promises… do it. I’m ready.” Alex arches his back and pushes his ass back, demanding, not asking. He shivers when Michael pushes a hand under his shirt and trails his fingers down his spine, tracing every scar and vertebra with lingering affection.

“You’re ready when I say you are.” Out of all the terrible things Michael is capable of, he’ll never hurt Alex, not physically. He drifts his hand lower between his cheeks, rubbing, testing, dragging a low moan out of Alex when he pushes two fingers into him right to the knuckles. He’s slick and hot inside, just the right side of tight, contracting around Michael’s fingers on a drawn-out exhale when he pushes deeper. 

It’s a tempting thought to make Alex come like this. Push in a third finger, drop to his knees and take him to the brink again and again with his fingers and tongue until he comes all over Michael’s trodden floor. 

Next time, maybe. 

Right now, Michael needs to feel that heat clenching around his cock. He bites his lips as he pulls out, rubbing his fingers one last time over Alex’s hole, heat exploding in his gut when the little furl purses a parting kiss against his fingertips. Pushing between Alex’s cheeks, Michael can feel the jerk at the root of his cock as he drags it through the soft, slick valley in a slow, shameless drag. Alex’s hole twitches against the head, sending Michael’s entire body into a wracking shiver as he pushes into the hot grip of slick-tight muscle in one full, smooth stroke. 

“Fuck, Alex…” Michael’s eyes burn as he shudders through the exquisite hot stretch around his cock. His balls are throbbing, the heated coil of arousal between his cock and balls pulling tight with every flutter of Alex’s hole around him, and he can’t—oh God, he has to move, his thighs straining with the effort to keep still until Alex tells him to. 

Eventually, the rigid arch of Alex’s spine relaxes, his head dropping between his stretched arms as he gasps out a sob that sounds as if scraped out of his throat. A shiver runs through him, his hips shaking under Michael’s hands. 

“You okay?” Michael asks, blinking the sweat from his eyes. 

“I’m alright—” Alex’s voice is barely more than a whisper, cracked open and raw. He shudders, struggling for breath. “I can feel you in my gut… fuck, it burns, so good.” Michael has to close his eyes to keep himself from coming when Alex pushes back, fucks himself onto Michael’s cock with a groan, his insides clenching hard. “ _Move!_ ”

The relief that floods him at the command almost makes Michael dizzy. His body reacts before his foggy brain, his hips drawing back until just the head of his cock is spreading Alex open. He watches Alex’s rim flutter and contract around him, drinks in the sight of him so wet and open, needing to be fucked full and taken. Only when Alex keens out something that sounds like _please_ does he push forward again, his thick shaft forcing Alex open again, his cock throbbing at the tip while Alex clenches helplessly around him.

“Harder!”

Helpless against Alex’s every demand, it’s all a blur after that. He twists a hand in Alex’s hair, pulling him back onto his cock with his other hand on his hip, and Alex meets him thrust for thrust, riding his ass back every time Michael fucks into him. He takes it so beautifully, his breath shaking out of him every time Michael’s cock drags inside him just right. 

Michael can barely breathe, spasms of heat licking up his spine every time Alex clenches around him. He’s as deep as he can go, balls nestled tightly against Alex’s ass, and he still needs to push deeper, fuck harder, driven on by Alex’s husky little moans and the hot throb in his balls. Driving his pleasure into Alex’s body with single-minded desperation, he wraps a hand around his slick cock, only to have his hand batted away. 

“Don’t need it,” Alex gasps, slapping his hand back against the fridge. He allows Michael’s fingers to drift lower, though, teasing over his tightly drawn balls, over his slick taint and down to his wet and fucked open hole. It’s the scrape of a nail against his rim that finally sends Alex over the edge. He sobs his release, his whole body shuddering as he’s coming, hot come dribbling down over Michael’s fist.

All Michael can do is grind deep into the vicious clench of Alex’s body. Hot pressure starts to twist low in his gut and then he’s coming, his bones melting as he empties himself into the condom, breath rattling in his chest and cock throbbing as he shivers his way down. 

Once the fog of arousal and sex starts to fade, everything slowly comes back into focus. Again, nothing has changed. Alex is quiet except for his harsh breathing, straightening as soon as Michael pulls out. 

It’s hard to ignore his sharp inhale, the way he tucks himself back into his jeans without even taking the time to clean up. It’s how it is between them; they both get off, Alex leaves so he can loathe himself for seeking him out in the first place, and Michael starts down the slow and painful path of drinking himself numb. 

But after Michael gets rid of the condom and buttons himself up, thinking of something— _anything_ to say that will make it hurt less, Alex is still there.

He looks tired but his eyes are bright and warm when he drops his head to Michael’s shoulder. “Is it okay if I stay?”

Yeah, _of course_. Michael nods, his throat tight, sliding an arm around his middle and pulling close. He’ll always let him stay. 


End file.
